Paint Schoodic

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Rejection

If you get into every
show you apply to, you’re not reaching. If you don’t get into any, you need to
reassess your process.

Jonathan Submarining is one of my favorite plein air paintings, because of the difficulty in capturing the sailing class on a windy day in Penobscot Bay.

We all know the feeling of not getting into a show we really
wanted. It’s really disheartening, especially when you compare your work with
that of the accepted painters. I recently discovered something almost as bad:
when your friend doesn’t get into a show you were accepted into. I suspect it’s
even worse from the friend’s side.

We all know we shouldn’t take it personally, but I don’t
know anyone who can do that all the time. Of course we’re going to personalize
rejection; that’s only human. But it helps to be businesslike about it. When a
business’ bid is rejected, they do not sulk. They lay the groundwork to succeed
the next time.

We long to understand what goes on behind the curtain, and
sometimes our conclusions are flat-out wrong. A fellow artist recently
commented about a show I’ve done since its inception, saying that I was ‘guaranteed
a place for life.’ I know the organizers are committed to changing up the
talent, and that show is anything but a sinecure. I sweat bullets every year.

Red Truck at Lumber Yard is another favorite that I don't think translated well into a submission.

An invitational show I’ve done for many years has a ruthless
process: they tot up sales and cull the bottom quarter of performers. That may
seem heartless, but it does raise the bar.

When you apply to a show, you know the overt criteria; they're spelled out for you. You don’t know the covert criteria, like demographics. Then there's the question of style. You ought be
able to see if you’re a good fit by looking at the judge’s own work, but that is no guarantee. No good juror picks only painters whose work looks like his or hers.

Dyce Head in the early morning light works as a painting, but are lighthouses a no-no with the cognoscenti?

Then there is the question of collegiality. Yes, people are biased to like their friends. The best shows are juried at arm’s length, by a juror
from another region. But that’s expensive. Sometimes it works for a small show
to invite artists they know and like and who they know can sell.

We artists are terrible judges of our own work. I tend to like
the paintings that were the greatest challenge or struggle to create. These are
usually not the most aesthetically pleasing. The more anxious we are to ‘make
an impression’ with our entries, the more our judgment is fouled. I've illustrated this post with four paintings that have been rejected by jurors.

There are times when we’re making radical changes to our
technique. I’ve found that during those periods, I’m less likely to get into
shows than when I’m coasting along doing what I know. Since growth is an
important part of art, the last thing you should do is try to retard it.
Instead, be patient with the temporary check on your career. It will resolve
itself. I once took an entire year off from showing just because I didn’t
understand the work I was creating. It was a great move.

Fish Beach is another painting I love but jurors haven't..

It helps to have a friend you trust with whom you can
discuss your submissions. If you keep track of what paintings you submit where,
you’re sitting on your own data mine. Compare your successful
applications to your failures and see if you can find a pattern. I’ll be interested
to hear what you find.